The Real Me
by Elmlea
Summary: "Nobody understands. The judge me as cruel and proud. I'm not." I am rating this T/M, but if I continue this as a story, then it will change to M.


**Hi there… So I know I've been missing for nearly a year… Hehe… I have been seriously busy and I'm trying to get As/A*s in my GCSEs, so that I can end up getting into the university of my dreams! BUT I'm back, so that's all that matters! I finally found time to finish this up, but I'm not sure. I've never written anything like this before, so I'm nervous for your reactions!**

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_"Get here you little-"_

_I don't hear the rest due to my scream in pain. Her claws have penetrated my arms so much blood was pouring out._

_Why didn't my mummy love me? Why couldn't she keep me instead of giving me to this so-called 'family'?_

_I'm only four years old. I haven't eaten in days, I have bruises and burns all over my body, the cuts her nails had given me joined the rest of my scars._

_A bundle of memories began to collect in my mind when she brought the bottle of vodka from her pocket. She opened it and took a swig before positioning it above my arm, to be exact, where the new cuts were. This had happened before but I still hadn't gotten over the pain yet. She begins to tip it until some of the liquid comes out. I see it fly through the air just before it-_

I shot straight up. Sweat was dripping down my face and neck, my body shivering from the cold. I looked around my room and saw a window open, the curtains flying about. I threw my feet over the bed and instantly winced at my bare feet making contact with the cold floor.

I padded over, but just as I was about to close the wretched thing, I saw something. I walked over and saw it was a gun. In a panic, I whimpered and walked backwards. I closed my eyes and shook my head, whispering to myself 'please' over and over again. When I had the courage to open them again, I looked back to where my greatest fear was and saw it gone.

I was probably hallucinating again. I have been ever since I have arrived at Camp Jupiter at just the mere age of nine. I ran all the way from Texas when I was just a week of turning eight. My birthday cake was one I had found in a bakery. The man saw me and gave me it. The red cake was stale, but I took it graciously. He just turned a blind eye afterwards.

And here I was. Fourteen years old. And still having nightmares about my past. I should be happy! I should be happy that it's all over, but I can't be. I am just a huge unwanted scar to the world. Even ask all the rest of the soldiers, they'll agree.

I checked the time and saw it was about half-five in the morning. Knowing I wouldn't get back to sleep, I went and got a shower. During this I reached to grab my soap bar and rubbed it against my arm, but not before putting it under the shower head. After about two minutes of scrubbing and getting no bubbles, I realised that someone had put clear nail varnish on my soap, therefore preventing me from using it.

Sighing, I threw it over the top of the shower door and heard a successful thud of it landing in the bin.

After my shower I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked over to the sink. I looked at my reflection. Emotionless blue eyes, sunken cheeks, stringy, straw coloured hair. I know I'm not the most attractive guy in the world. But I also know I could be worst.

By seven I had successfully completed my morning routine. When I looked in the mirror again, I saw I looked half decent. My clothes were baggy on me, but that's better. Nobody will know about my eating disorder. The scars are hidden behind my togas and long sleeved t-shirts.

People think I'm confident and arrogant.

But I'm not.

I don't participate in any weapons lessons because it would be so easy for somebody to accidentally have a slip of the sword, causing it to hit my arm. That would put me in a panic. The only thing I do is see the future from ripping open stuffed animals. People think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I look at my gift as an apology from Apollo, but it's not good enough.

Everyone at school knew something was up, and I swear the head of the school knew exactly what my problems were at home. People stayed away from me, and I don't blame them.

I mean, who would want to be friends with Octavian, the freak with a freaky-ass name and a freaky-ass personality?

Once upon a time, Reyna and I were best friends. But then people told her rumours that I grew up on the streets and used to kill people for money and weapons. I never did any of that. I don't know why they would think any of it either. But she ended up just completely abandoning me, and thinks I'm a freak along with the rest of them.

As I was thinking this, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I look up into the mirror, and wipe it away.

I hate pity. Especially self-pity. But today was one of those days where I couldn't help it.

I needed to cut. The urge became too strong, and without realising it, I was in my bathroom with my dagger in my hand, bandages next to me and the tap flowing steadily. My sleeve was rolled up. There was nothing holding me back. My mind was now urging me to just move my hand down so that the blade rested on my skin. That step was completed. I slowly pressed the tip of the blade into my skin, not too far though.

I draw the blade down in a quick fashion. My cuts started shallow, but by the time I was on my eleventh, it was a little deeper.

I stopped.

I realised what I was doing.

And I cried.

I had been nearly seven weeks sober.

I had failed.

I threw the blade towards the opposite side of the bathroom, where it landed with a clang in the bath. I collapsed and sobs racked my body as the blood was dripping down my arm and on to the floor.

After I had somewhat calmed down, I had enough sense to wash the cuts with water and wrap the bandages around my arm, and to then wash my face with cold water.

I walked out and made sure I looked normal. No red eyes. No tear stains. Bandages concealed.

I quickly fixed my hair, stood up with a straight back, and a confident smile was thrown on to my face.

And I walked outside to continue my day, knowing that nobody would suspect a thing.

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**So I hope you enjoyed this.**

**I don't know if I should continue this as a story, or keep it as a one-shot.**

**So tell me!**

**Please favourite and review and stuff like that.**

**And I'll guess I'll see you next time. :)**


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